


reflection/refraction

by deplore



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:26:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deplore/pseuds/deplore
Summary: The last trial, it turns out, is for the Shepherd to face alone. The shrine’s attendant leads him to a room that’s so startlingly white that the walls and floor almost seem to blend into each other, and says, “This test is about your capacity for acceptance, Shepherd Sorey.”“Acceptance?” he echoes, tilting his head as he looks around – but there’s nothing to see in the room except what looks like a standing mirror at its center. It’s framed in a strangely translucent silver, so that the only reason the mirror even catches his attention at all is because he can see himself in it.“You’ll understand,” she says. Then she steps outside to seal the room, leaving Sorey alone with nothing but the mirror. As he steps closer, he notices that it’s rather tall, so that his entire body is captured in the reflection when he stands in front of it.“It’s me,” he says aloud, and then reaches out hesitantly to touch the mirror.Then, suddenly, from behind the glass – his reflection reaches out and grabs him by the wrist. The Sorey in the mirror’s expression hardens, and Sorey can feel an oppressive atmosphere of malevolence begin to surround him. “No,” the reflection says to him. “It’s not.”





	reflection/refraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreatVegetables](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatVegetables/gifts).



The last trial, it turns out, is for the Shepherd to face alone. The shrine’s attendant leads him to a room that’s so startlingly white that the walls and floor almost seem to blend into each other, and says, “This test is about your capacity for acceptance, Shepherd Sorey.”

“Acceptance?” he echoes, tilting his head as he looks around – but there’s nothing to see in the room except what looks like a standing mirror at its center. It’s framed in a strangely translucent silver, so that the only reason the mirror even catches his attention at all is because he can see himself in it.

“You’ll understand,” she says. Then she steps outside to seal the room, leaving Sorey alone with nothing but the mirror. As he steps closer, he notices that it’s rather tall, so that his entire body is captured in the reflection when he stands in front of it.

“It’s me,” he says aloud, and then reaches out hesitantly to touch the mirror.

Then, suddenly, from behind the glass – his reflection reaches out and grabs him by the wrist. The Sorey in the mirror’s expression hardens, and Sorey can feel an oppressive atmosphere of malevolence begin to surround him. “No,” the reflection says to him. “It’s not.”

Then the Sorey behind the reflection suddenly pulls hard, almost as if using Sorey as an anchor as he extracts himself from the mirror and enters the other side, the realm of the living. Sorey stands face-to-face with his doppelganger and can’t discern any physical differences between them – they’re the same height exactly, so that their eyes gazes straight at each other when they look at each other, and even the way they carry their posture is precisely the same.

It’s only in one fundamental way that they’re not the same: “You’re a hellion, aren’t you?” Sorey says slowly.

He doesn’t get a reply, but the painfully crooked way that the other Sorey smiles is all the answer he needs.

Sorey can’t tell whether his reflected self is from a universe that was just a slip away from the one he’s lived in his whole life or whether it’s a simple illusion, brought to life from Sorey’s own mind – he can’t put either possibility past the power of Seraphic artes. But the tainted Sorey explains slowly and simply the chain of events that led him to being infected with malevolence and Sorey listens to him quietly, without interrupting even once, heart growing heavy as he realizes that the only thing separating the two of them may have dumb luck that things turned out a little better for him. As such, he can’t find anything to criticize in the decisions that his other self made, because he knows he would’ve done the same.

In the end, all he can say when his other self finishes talking is a simple, “I see. So that’s how it happened…”

He’s fairly certain that his gaze isn’t as deep or piercing as the one he receives in turn, but he supposes that must be the gap in experiences between them. “So now that you know, you have to purify me, right?” the other Sorey asks. And judging by the look on his face, Sorey thinks that’s probably what he wants – to finally escape from his tainted existence.

“Actually, I… don’t think that I’m qualified for that,” Sorey replies, bringing his hand up to his face to scratch at his cheek, somewhat abashedly. “Isn’t it wrong of me to pass judgment upon myself?”

“Isn’t this one of your tests?” his double points out, folding his arms. “You won’t get anywhere if you won’t do anything. Or would it be easier if I attacked you first?”

For better or for worse, Sorey can certainly recognize his tendency towards being self-sacrificing in the offer. “I just think there must be another way,” he starts to reply, but he’s cut off when the other Sorey lunges forth, reaching out as if to grab Sorey by the neck.

It’s been too long since Sorey’s practiced his hand-to-hand combat – Mikleo never liked it very much, so they rarely sparred unarmed – so he moves more sluggishly than he’d like to dodge and twist around to grasp at the other Sorey’s wrist. But his body remembers his training better than his mind, because he instinctively lets the momentum carry them as he pulls the other Sorey’s arm behind his back and pushes him against the closest wall, pressing his body weight against the other Sorey to keep him pinned to the wall.

“I really don’t want it to be this way,” he says, voice pleading. “Can’t we work things out differently? I’m sure if we keep talking, we could come to some kind of compromise…”

Underneath him, the other Sorey struggles, thrashing with his entire body. “We already talked,” he insists, earnestly trying to throw Sorey off of him. “Both of us know that this isn’t something that can be solved through words.”

“You haven’t let me respond at all yet, though!” Sorey says, and then swallows to try and compose himself, because the sensation of his other self moving underneath him is a more comfortable friction than he’d like to admit, and he doesn’t know if there’s any acceptable way to explain why he’s starting to get hard from it. “More importantly, if you don’t stop that, things are going to get kind of awkward…”

“What do you mean by…” The question trails off, and Sorey is pretty sure his implication’s been understood, because he stops struggling from underneath Sorey.

Sorey shifts his weight, unintentionally rubbing his hardening dick onto his other self’s back – he tries to laugh it off, but the sound dies in his throat. “Sorry,” he says, unsure what else he even can say in a situation like this.

There’s a measured pause, but Sorey doesn’t feel any sense of tension that he might have felt if it were somebody else.

“Don’t make this too weird, but you can keep going,” he finally replies.

“It’s not that weird,” Sorey insists, even though it really  _ is _ rather strange – but if it were anybody else, he’s sure that’s what he’d say, so how could he not say it to himself?

“No, it’s definitely weird,” the other Sorey says, despite the audible strain in his voice.

“It’s just a little weird,” both of them say, timing a little bit off from each other, so that they barely miss hitting a perfect chorus – but Sorey’s the only one who laughs afterwards.  _ I guess we really are the same _ , he wants to say, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. If their positions were reversed, he’s sure that he would feel like hearing something like that would be twisting the knife in a deep wound, that he’d feel all the worse for the fact that the only thing separating them is simple circumstance.

Besides, there are more pressing things on his mind, in an almost embarrassingly literal sense. “I’ll touch you too,” Sorey says, sounding about as disoriented as he feels – it’s only because they’re wearing the same clothes that he manages to fumble one-handed well enough to undo the lace of his belt and push down his pants and underwear, then goes through the exact same motion for his own. The researcher in him analyzes the situation as if detached from the rest of him, faintly curious at how comfortably familiar this feels rather than abnormal; Sorey’s sure that says something double-edged about his ability to go with the flow, but he decides that’s neither here nor there at the moment.

So he stops thinking too hard about things and just starts  _ doing _ – he holds onto his other self a little tighter with his dominant hand, grinding his hips so that his dick slides between the cheeks of other Sorey’s ass. The feeling of warm, smooth skin against his cock is different than anything else he’s experienced from the admittedly intermittent number of times he’s touched himself; his hands are calloused from years of exploring Mabinogio and swinging a sword around. The heat’s more engulfing and the sensation is sharper, clearer – he can’t help but instinctively seek more of that pleasure, thrusting mindlessly a few more times before remembering that he’d said he’d return the favor.

So he carefully lets go of the other Sorey’s arm, waiting for a few seconds to make sure seems safe before releasing his grip entirely, then reaches around to palm at his crotch – he finds himself a little relieved to find that his other self’s already hard. Without pause, Sorey strokes his cock from the base to the tip then back down again, nice and slow. He doesn’t have to ask if it’s good or not, because he has a decent idea of what he likes to begin with, so he doesn’t bother with polite hesitation before leaning in, resting his head on the other’s shoulder, lips brushing against the back of the other Sorey’s ear as he reaches further so he can cup at his balls, fondling them between his fingers.

All the while, the sensation of malevolence so close sticks to his skin but fails to sink in – that should be proof enough, Sorey thinks, that he’s not in the wrong for continuing on like this. Still, he can’t tell if it’s a little difficult to breathe properly because of the malevolence or how exciting he finds this. Probably both, he figures, and promptly lets that chain of thought go as he tries as best as he can to keep his cool as he continues rubbing himself against the other Sorey’s ass. The feeling of pleasure coils tighter low in his waist, and the build-up seems deeper than it’s just him touching himself – he can’t help but find that thought ironic, though, and lets out a strained laugh right into the other Sorey’s ear as he thumbs the tip of his cock, smearing the precum budding at the crown across the rest of his dick.

And in response to that laugh, the other Sorey lets out a low moan and  _ shivers _ , squirming from the base of his spine up, pushing back up against Sorey’s crotch – and then he’s the one moaning in turn, with less restraint than his other self.  _ Oh _ , Sorey thinks, more than a little hazy-minded,  _ I had no idea I could sound like that _ –

Climax hits him hard, building up unexpectedly quickly in the last few seconds before he peaks and comes; he squeezes his eyes shut and bites into the other Sorey’s shoulder to blunt the way he cries out, not hard enough to hurt through his clothes but almost certainly hard enough to feel. The sensation of orgasm blossoms from his crotch in waves that crash over the rest of his body and leaves him feeling weak-limbed and tingly.

It takes him a few moments to even think about regaining himself. His first realization is that he’d stilled his touch, too distracted by how overwhelming his own pleasure was – his second is that there’s come on his palm and the other Sorey is breathing hard in a distinctively post-orgasmic way. Tentatively, when Sorey’s pretty sure he can carry his own weight, he backs off a bit, only to see that he’d come all across the small of his other self’s back.

“Um, here, I’ll get that off for you,” he says, suddenly grateful for his well-ingrained habit of carrying around a handkerchief in his traveling pouch. He quietly wipes the come off of the other Sorey first, then his hand, balling the handkerchief up when he’s done and shoving it back to the bottom of his pouch.

All the while, the other Sorey doesn’t say anything. That weighs upon Sorey more heavily than the atmosphere of malevolence, he thinks, because he doesn’t know what reaction he’s going to get. Given that the person he’s dealing with is, for all intents and purposes, the same person as him – it scares him a little to feel like he doesn’t know himself that well after all.

“I guess that means I really can’t convince you to purify me,” he finally says, not turning around.

“No,” Sorey answers, a little relieved that’s what the conversation has circled back around to. “Like I said… I don’t think I can judge myself. Obviously, I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong. But at the same time…” He pauses for a moment, reaching out and touching his other self’s forearm lightly. “I know I’m not always going to be right. And I’m alright with that… because that’s what our friends are for, aren’t they? Those guys… they’re a way better judge for us than we can be for ourselves.”

“I see,” the other Sorey replies. “I guess that’s what I thought you would say in the first place.”

Sorey moves his hand to his other’s shoulder. “You should go back to your own world. That’s where you belong,” he says, and then turns to look at the mirror – but the moment he catches his own reflection, his hand suddenly drops: the other Sorey disappears in the mirror’s glass, and in reality as well.

“Oh,” Sorey says aloud, blinking a few times as he turns his hand palm-up and looks at it. “I… guess that’s the end of the test, then.”

For a few long moments, nothing happens. But more so than at any of the other trials, Sorey is at ease: he’s certain he’s made the right choice.

The door opens, and in steps the trial’s attendant. “Congratulations, Shepherd Sorey, for passing the trial,” she says, before bowing her head slightly; Sorey can tell she’s pointedly avoiding eye contact by the way she ardently stares at the floor. “You, um, cleared the trial with a somewhat… unique approach. Don’t worry, Shepherd Sorey, nobody else saw! And, of course, I won’t tell anybody.”

Sorey laughs, embarrassed. “I see… thank you, then,” he replies. “So, then, acceptance…”

She looks back up, obviously relieved that he’s provided a neat segue to a different topic. “Yes, you grasped the concept well. As a Shepherd, you should accept your own imperfections and allow them to neither steer nor to deter you on your path.”

Sorey debates to ask what really happened in that trial – whether the mirror merely conjured a vision, or if something really has the power to reach through universe – but then he smiles and shakes his head. It doesn’t matter, in the end: he doesn’t need the power to save somebody else’s world. That universe is for a different Sorey, and Sorey has faith in him as much as he does himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic for [Kai](archiveofourown.org/users/GreatVegetables), my fellow Sorey fan _( :3 / He's so good! So pure! He loves history and his friends! He has beautiful green eyes! The one most worthy of Sorey is Sorey himself.


End file.
